


Sherlock Does Have a Heart, or Rather Did...

by Vesatora



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Child Death, F/M, Murder, Original Character Death(s), Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 00:43:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18840139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vesatora/pseuds/Vesatora
Summary: The story that broke Sherlock Holmes and made him who he is today.Just something I wrote one night that I might continue if I can decide how it should go on. I hope you all enjoy!Please let me know if I have made any mistakes in my writing. I will always welcome comments and criticisms. After all, how would we ever better our selves without some criticism?The characters in and the story of Sherlock Holmes do not belong to me. The only character I own is Alessa and her impact on the Holmes brothers' and other character's lives.-Vesa





	1. Ace Up His Sleeve

The world seemed to have stopped. No one dared utter a single word as the two mortal enemies started each other down.  
All the civilians present, hidden behind their various covers at the foot of the Big Ben, could only gaze curiously at the showdown of wit, happening before them. The long and twisted game was coming to an end, but Moriarty still had an ace up his sleeve.

  “You know Sherlock,” Moriarty began, slowly circling around the most famous Holmes brother, “I recently took an insightful trip to the countryside.”

  Sherlock didn't dare let him out of sight, raised an eyebrow silently asking for him to say whatever he was going to say.

  “Your parents have a wonderful home you know? The front lawn covered in red tulips, the two-story sandstone mansion, the maroon door,” the consulting criminal paused to let the information sink in. “Your mother was all too happy to let me in when I mentioned being an old friend of yours from university. You don't mind the little lie do you?”

  Sherlock looked him up and down before tilting his head and stating in his bored baritone, “I don't know what intrigued you in my mother so much to warrant a visit. She's a rather dull woman.” Despite his emotionless words, Sherlock couldn't help but worry about what exactly Moriarty got out of his mother. She never could keep her mouth shut. Always too keen to tell the whole world stories about his and his brothers' lives.

   “Yes I must admit a rather dull woman indeed,” Jim agreed, nodding his head, “but the visit wasn't a complete waste. You see something did catch my attention. Your mother has a lovely collection of family photographs on her walls. Photographs she was more than happy to let me admire as she insisted on making us tea.”

He began fixing the cuffs of his shirt as he looked at Sherlock with an all-knowing smirk.     

  The detective couldn't help but imagine wiping that smirk off his face. Preferably with a well-aimed right hook.

  “There were all sorts of pictures hanging there. You and your brothers as teeny tiny toddlers. Your first day of school, graduation, Mycroft with the Queen. But do you want to know which one caught my attention the most?”

  Sherlock held his breath knowing where this was going.

  “You with your arms tightly wrapped around the waist of a beautiful garnet haired woman. Your chin resting on her shoulder. A lazy smile on your lips and a loving one on hers. She looked particularly beautiful in her white satin gown don't you agree? And her eyes? Just stunning!”

  Sherlock could only take in a sharp breath, taking a step back, as if someone struck him, towards where John Watson was standing. He knew exactly which photograph Moriarty was talking about. The events of that day still woke him at night covered in cold sweat. His blue eyes filling with grief the more he remembered of his beautiful wife.

  “Sherlock? Are you all right?” questioned Watson with concern. Eyes never leaving their enemy as he stepped to his friend side. Resting a hand on his shoulder. “Who was that woman he mentioned?”

  Sherlock couldn't answer him. Still stuck in his memories, slowly falling deeper and deeper in grief. A pair of two colored eyes flashed through his mind. One a warm brown and the other a stunning forest green. Those eyes took his breath away even when he just imagined them.

  “Oh, he never told you? Well then listen everyone!” he raised his voice as for all present, civilians, hostages and the whole Scotland Yard to hear, “It seems we were all wrong about our dear consulting detective! The high functioning sociopath DOES have a heart! Or rather did should I say.” Moriarty smiled a mocking smile full of fake sympathy. “That beauty I mentioned? No other than the stunning, kind, intelligent Alessa Holmes! The one and only wife of Sherlock Holmes!”

  Gasps could be heard all around, as a buzz of shocked whispers broke out. Donovan and Lestrand could only stare at Sherlock wide-eyed, mouths hanging open in shock.

  John looked at his best friend. He however instantly noticed the grief on his friend's face and turned concerned knowing that this could mean nothing good. “Sherlock?” He stuttered, “your wife?” His concerned eyes flashed to the smug looking figure of Moriarty.

  “Yes.” Sherlock breathed almost inaudibly. If it wasn't for the silence that once again filled the area, no one would have heard the heartbroken confession but as now not a soul dared speak, all present and listening could hear. They heard not only the confirmation but also the complete and utter despair in the detective's voice.

  “Your sweet darling Alessa. Your mother was ecstatic at the chance of talking about her beloved daughter in law. She babbled on and on about how Alessa managed to tame not only you but your brothers as well. How her cooking was so amazing that even you would ask for seconds. How your brothers adored their sweet lovely sister, how protective you all were of her.” Moriarty. went on and on before suddenly stopping. His eyes filling with malice and glee as he said, “She got oh so emotional when she started to talk about the events of that horrible spring when all your lives shattered. She wouldn't stop crying her eyes out. How utterly pathetic,” he huffed before looking around.

  Sherlock couldn't take it anymore. The memories were coming faster and faster. He no longer was able to silently watch on. Not now that he finally understood what Moriarity's final move was. To destroy him completely, using his own memories. “Shut up!” He roared startling everyone around them. “You have no right. You pathetic idiot. You're not worthy to even know her name much less utter it with such disrespect!”

  “Oh but I'm only beginning!” Jim sang as John had to grab Sherlock before he could lunge to rip out the criminal's throat.

  Suddenly a black Bentley pulled up a few meters away from the detective and out stepped Mycroft Holmes. Quickly evaluating the situation Mycroft headed to his brother's side. If he had deducted correctly, which he always did, it could have been only one person that Moriarty could have mentioned to get this reaction from his younger brother. And if there was one thing that all three brothers agreed on, it was their beloved Alessa.

  “Don't let him get to you,” Mycroft advised in a quiet voice stopping at his brother's other side. All he got in return is a look from his brother that conveyed it all. Sherlock was already breaking.

 “Ah, Mycroft! Just in time for my favorite part!” The psychopath clapped his hands. “Where was I? Oh yes! Your poor mother wouldn't stop weeping as she told me the story. How you left your cozy little cottage in the mountains to travel to London on Mycroft’s insistence. How Alessa would usually go with you but was in no condition to travel. I suppose it would be hard to move around with a six-month baby bump getting in your way.” The consulting criminal smiled morbidly getting to his favorite part. He eyed how both Mycroft’s fist and Sherlock’s clenched at the start of the story of the worst day of their lives. “She told me all about how you returned home. How you found your gorgeous wife gutted. Your unborn baby ripped from her womb while she was still alive, lying dead at her side, your wife's hand reaching out towards it. Of Course, judging by the state of the house she didn't go down without a fight,” Moriarty giggled, “but alas she was no match for a trained assassin when she could barely walk with her baby bump. She told me how she died, alone, scared and in agony.” Moriarty hissed in sick glee as he watched the brothers fight to stay calm. His grin made a shiver run down everyone's spine. He truly was a sick man.

  The Holmes brothers stood rigid stuck between killing Moriarty for disrespecting the memory of their beloved wife and little sister in such a way and saving the thirty odd hostages trapped at the bottom of the Big Ben rigged with explosives.

  Those present finally understood the detective's reaction, many had tears in their eyes as they realized the detective's loss. As they realized just how horrible, how brutal Alessa’s murder was.

  John looked at his friend and his brother. He was utterly speechless. He never could have guessed the horrors that Sherlock endured. He never knew why his friend was so cold and uncaring. Now he could understand. Sherlock knew loss like no other so now he cut himself off from the world, refusing to ever love anyone else like he loved his wife, like he loved his unborn child. Terrified of experiencing such a loss again. Never able to forget the mangled bodies of his wife and baby.

  For the first time in her life, Donovan felt pity for the obnoxious detective. No one should endure such a horrible loss. And a baby too? The sergeant was truly speechless.

  Lestrand too couldn't form any coherent thought as he went over and over what Moriarty has said. Sherlock was married? He was gonna be a father? He shook his head. The poor bastard, even with how uncaring he could be, no one deserved to suffer such a loss.


	2. Alessa Holmes?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our characters get some insight as to what Sherlock's wife was like and how she first met the Holmes' family.

Several Hours Later  
Later that day they all sat around a table in a local dinner. Donovan and Lestrand, still shocked about what has transpired hours before, on one side, Mycroft and John, silently concerned, on either side of Sherlock. And Sherlock himself, he hasn't uttered a single word since Jim Moriarty's imprisonment. He sat there in silence staring at the untouched bowl of pasta before him, his mind rebelling against him, taking him back to times when Alessa was still alive.  
He remembered how she would dance as she cooked dinner every night. How the same music would play on and on around her. How she would have her long locks tightly wound in a messy bun to prevent it from getting in the way. He remembered how her eyes would sparkle as he arrived home. How her crimson lips would form a sweet smile as he leant down to her short height of 5 foot 3” to kiss her on the cheek. She would always ask about how his day went. She in turn told him how she spent her days, more often than not with his brothers or mother, if not in her beloved garden filled with red tulips she adored so much, or doing her research in the office overlooking said tulips. The same red tulips that his mother now had planted on her front lawn. He remembered when he returned home to find her in their bedroom, tears spilling done her face, yet on her lips was a radiant smile. That was the day he found out he was going to be a father.  
~~~  
“Darling? What are you doing in here when the weather is perfect for your gardening?” He paused taking in the scene, eyes raking over the figure of his beautiful wife. Her slender body, with perfect curves, instantly looking for any injuries that could justify the tears running down her ivory cheeks. “What is the matter? Are you hurt? Did I upset you somehow? What happened?” He babled worriedly moving to kneel before her.  
“Upset me?” She asked shaking her head, “No no never.” Her lips forming an even wider smile if possible. “You gave me the greatest gift I could ever ask for.”  
“I don't understand.” Sherlock looked at her confused. He couldn't remember giving her a present lately. Sure there were the flowers two days ago but surely she didn't mean that. He pondered on as his wife watched on in amusement.  
“You gave me a family, love. Our very own family!” she cried wrapping her arms around his neck.  
“A family? What on earth are…” Sherlock looked down at his radiant wife before his mouth dropped open. His eyes falling to his wives still flat stomach. “A fa...family?”  
“Yes Sher! A baby! I'm pregnant. You're going to be a father.”  
By now tears were falling down both of their faces. Sherlock picked her up my the waist, gently as not not hurt the life growing inside of her. He twirled her around laughing in glee.  
“A baby! Our baby!”  
~~~  
A single tear ran down Sherlock's face. He didn't bother to wipe it away, he saw no shame in mourning the death of his beloved wife and unborn son or daughter.  
“Sherlock?” asked John looking at his friend.  
That one word broke the silence spell on the people present.  
“Is it true?” asked Lestrand somewhat gently looking at the tear falling down the detectives face.  
Mycroft nodded his head as his brother answered. “Everything that bastard said was true. She was my wife. She was pregnant with our child.” He paused drawing in a deep breath, tightly shutting his eyes. “And she died in agony, alone and scared.” By now more tears joined the first. Even Mycroft’s eyes were wet with tears.  
Mycroft carried on for him, seeing that his brother has truly broke. His eyes scanned those present as he looked each of them in the eye. “As Sherlock said it's all true. I met Alessa in the government. She was a well known doctor of biochemistry and particle physics. Even though her true love lay in animal behaviour and evolution.” His lips curled into a gentle smile remembering how she would get so passionate when talking about her dreams for a better future where animals were treated with respect and not as tools and possessions.  
Sherlock too gave a sad smile remembering this. Oh how angry she would get when she witnessed even the smallest sign of ill treatment on an animal.  
Mycroft continued, “We began talking, she was such an incredibly intelligent woman,” he paused shaking his head, “and one day when my mother made a surprise visit while her and I were talking over tea, she fell in love with Alessa’s gentle demeanor. She basically forced poor Alessa to spend Christmas with our family”  
Sherlock interrupted him with a soft laugh, “I'm pretty sure she thought that Alessa and Mycroft would one day get married. It came to her as quite the shock when her and I announced our relationship only months after we met that Christmas.”  
“Greatly so. It was entertaining to watch for sure, she wouldn't stop staring at the two of you.” Mycroft laughed thinking about that day. “Anyway, where was I? Ah yes. As I said mother insisted Alessa be present for Christmas and considering the family life that Alessa had, well she was more than happy to join us. That's when she met Sherlock and our other brother," he paused. "Of Course Sherlock had no manners at the beginning, he began to deduce her life. I don't think I have ever seen him more surprised when instead of the usual reaction he got, Alessa just leaned forwards curiously telling him to continue.”He shook his head, “that woman took pride in everything she did, she wasn't ashamed to let us hear all about her life. Simply because she didn't regret any of it.”  
“Not for a second did she cringe or look away embarrassed, nothing. No matter what I said she was just curious about what gave all those details away. And she learnt from them! The second I finished her demeanor changed. As if she was an open book at the start, now she was shut closed a steel lock on it. Nothing that previously gave her away was present!” Sherlock exclaimed. He had never met a being as brilliant as her. She was easily able to follow a conversation with him and his brothers. Never did she hesitate to add in her point of view, no matter the topic she was somehow always able to give an insightful answer. He sometimes wondered if maybe she was far more intelligent than him and his brothers.


End file.
